Omelets and Gingers and Doctors, Oh My!
by Elfpen
Summary: The Eleventh Doctor and the Tenth Doctor inadvertently run into each other, which results in much confusion and amusement for their companions. An Eleven meets Ten fanfiction. Fluffy oneshot. My first ever Doctor Who fanfiction. R&R please! SEQUEL IS UP!
1. Omelets and Gingers and Doctors, Oh My!

A/N: Okay, technically I've taken a leave of fanfiction for a while. But I've been really getting into Doctor Who recently, and after my sister mentioned an idea about one or more doctors meeting, I just had to write _something._ I love stories where more than one Doctor meets. They're hilarious.

So, this is my very very first Doctor Who fanfiction. Enjoy!

* * *

The Doctor hummed something that sounded like Beethoven's fifth symphony as he cracked an egg into the sizzling pan. As soon as he was done with that, he whirled around to face the opposite direction, endangering his tweed jacket to the flames of the stove in the process, to poor a pot of tea. He whirled around once again to face the stove, and tossed in a helping of bacon and cheese to the cooking egg. Before the omelet was fully cooked, he had moved on from Beethoven's symphony to 'I Gotta Feeling' by the Black Eyed Peas. Halfway through, he started singing in French.

It was onto this scene, a scene of a bow-tied, tweed-clad Doctor, singing pop music in French and cooking an omelet and arranging a plate of tea simultaneously with a questionable amount of attention paid to either, that a very confused Amy Pond emerged. She was in a crinkled nighty, and her hair looked as though she'd slept in a wind tunnel.

"I hate that song." She growled in her morning voice, squinting around the warmly lit room. She wasn't aware that the TARDIS had a kitchen, but it was logical, she supposed. It looked near enough to a normal kitchen. Stove, cupboards, sink, countertops, pots, pans, and… Wait, was that an Italian pizza oven? Amy had just enough time to spot the giant fondue fountain hiding in the corner before the Doctor spoke.

"You _are _a cheery one." He said, not looking up as he stirred in a helping of what might have been mayonnaise into his omelet. "Good morning, by the way." He turned to face her for a split second before he darted into what looked like a pantry. It must've been larger than it looked, because there was a good deal of crashing, rummaging, and long footsteps before he re-emerged. He was chewing something when he extended a small tin towards Amy. "Jammy dodger?"

"Doctor, it's four in the morning, why on earth are you…" She stopped to frown at him and peer at the strange hat that was now perched on his head. "Are you wearing a toque?" She asked incredulously.

He didn't hesitate. "Yes. Helps me get in the mood." He quickly darted back over to his pan, tossing the tin onto a counter. He swallowed his pastry before continuing. "Besides. Toques are cool."

Amy resisted the urge to impale her forehead on her palm at this annoying tagline. Spotting a small dining set, she plopped down in a chair and laid her head down on the tabletop. She considered glaring at the altogether too cheerful vase of alien flowers, but then again, it wasn't really worth the effort.

A few minutes later, the Doctor strode towards the table with a tray of tea, pastries, and two omelets. Amy took hers with a small 'thanks' and sipped at some tea while she tried to wake up. As the caffeine in the tea slowly made its way to her brain, something odd registered and she looked up to the Doctor, who was sitting across from her.

"You're eating bacon."

The Doctor, mid bite, looked up curiously. "What?"

"Bacon. There's bacon in your omelet." She pointed.

He looked down at it. "So I am." He took a moment, staring at the little bits of meat. "What of it?" He finally asked her.

She tilted her head. "You hate bacon. You can't stand it. When I cooked you bacon all those years ago at my house, you thought I was trying to poison you."

He lifted his head in an 'aha' moment. "Oh, yes. Hmm. Well," he glanced down at his dish, "It's a bit different when it's surrounded by egg and mayonnaise and pepper."

"So you like bacon?"

"Well, yes. No – but… Yes at the same time – in a manner of speaking." He shoveled some more omelet into his mouth.

She looked confused. "But you said you hated it."

"Well…" He gestured vaguely, as if searching for words.

"Wait a minute," Amy's eyes grew angry. "You're saying you don't like my cooking, aren't you?" Her voice rose in volume.

The Doctor looked surprised. "What? No. No no no no no, you've gotten it all wrong, Pond. What I _meant_ was-"

But Amy wouldn't have it. "You think I'm a bad cook, don't you? Well, Chef Bow-Tie, let me tell you that a seven-year-old usually isn't the best bet for a five-star meal, much _less _when a raggedy old alien comes slamming into her kitchen and spits yogurt all over the floor-"

"Amy, that's not what I meant-"

"_And _rejects every single bit of food that he asks for, _and-"_

"Amelia-"

Their argument was cut off suddenly by a loud, distant bang. It echoed down the TARDIS corridors, and both the time lord and his companion shut up immediately, forgetting their bickering. The Doctor's head perked up as he peered at the door, as if he could see right through it.

"From the console room." He said matter-of-factly, and rose from his seat. "A big banging thing in the console room that isn't my TARDIS. Hmmm." He paused to stare into space for a moment. Amy rose slowly from her seat.

"Doctor, what do you think that-" But before she could answer,

"Come along, Pond!" He grabbed her hand and darted out of the door. "Time to catch ourselves a big bad banging thing!" He had to hold down his toque to keep it from flying off.

Amy stumbled after him. As they tore down the winding hallways, she was reminded of a hyperactive five-year-old dragging his mother along to see something big and shiny that had captivated his attention. Amy glanced up at the Doctor, whose floppy bangs and toque put him at least twelve centimeters taller than her. Alright, a very _tall_ five-year-old, who was actually rather ancient and infinitely cleverer than her, but a five-year-old nevertheless.

A few steps away from the door to the console room, the Doctor dropped Amy's hand and charged ahead by himself. He might have said 'wait here', but Amy honestly couldn't remember. She tried to peer around the doorway, but she couldn't see anything. She heard the Doctor say from inside the room,

"Blimey! Time for this already?"

Frowning, Amy followed him into the room. She entered just as another, unfamiliar voice said,

"Sorry, do I know you?"

She walked onto the console platform, and felt suddenly self conscious of her nighty and bed hair when she spotted two newcomers - a quirky looking fellow with strange hair and a flustered redheaded woman who stood beside him. She had absolutely no idea who they were, much less how they managed to get inside the TARDIS, but they both appeared to be just as confused as she was.

"Yes, you do." The Doctor told the funny-haired man, "Well, actually, you don't. But you do at the same time. It's a complicated thing, really. You know me, but you don't really know… Me. Does that make sense?"

The man looked at him with calculating expression. He looked as though he was on the verge of a revelation, when he shook his head. "No, actually."

The Doctor scoffed with a strange smile. "Oh, come on, you're cleverer than that. Think about it." He waited a moment, but when he got no reply, he sighed and ran around the console to check the dials.

"Hmmm… Where were you headed? You know, it's not very nice to ram someone else's TARDIS mid-flight. I mean, two TARDISes colliding is downright disastrous. But one single TARDIS doubling back and ramming itself? That is most definitely very not good. I suppose we'll have to do something or other to stop it from going boom… And anyway, it creates a jolly good racket when it happens. My omelet is probably cold by now." He eventually ended up so that he was facing the newcomers again, and when he spotted the redhead, he broke into a huge smile.

"Oh, Donna Noble! It's so good to see you again! He rushed over and squeezed her shoulders affectionately. Then, he ran over to fiddle with the TARDIS' door. As he did, the whole console room seemed to flicker for a few seconds, from what Amy recognized as the interior of the console room to a more industrial, older looking room with the same attributes.

"Hmm." The Doctor muttered. "It does seem to have rammed itself quite badly. Ah well, I'm sure things will work out without _too _big of a boom. Quite sure, actually, so long as I'm remembering things correctly."

The whole time he went on, the man with the funny hair had been watching him with growing interest. Now, a strange, almost disturbed smile was growing on his face, and he was about to say something, when his redheaded companion leaned over and asked him,

"Doctor, what in the blazes is goin' on?"

Amy, who had been watching the situation from the console, finally voiced her confusion. "Doctor?" She repeated incredulously, eyeing the redhead with suspicion. She looked over to the Doctor. "This woman knows you?" She asked him.

He looked at her, then at Donna. "Yes. No. Yes and no."

Amy rolled her eyes. "You've said that a lot today."

The Doctor ignored her. "I know her, but she knows… Well, she knows me," he pointed towards the funny-haired man, "but not _me._" He pointed to himself. He strode over to stand just in front of the man with the funny hair, and grinned cheekily.

"Figure it out yet, Doctor?"

The other man stared back at him blankly for a moment. Then,

"I'm wearing a toque."

The Doctor peered up around his bangs to the white chef's hat. "So you are." He removed the headwear and tossed it nonchalantly at Amy.

"And a bowtie." The man continued.

The Doctor looked the least bit offended. "Bowties are cool." He said, adjusting the red knot at his throat. The TARDIS console emitted a trill and the Doctor darted over to pull a lever that quieted the noise.

"I don't know 'bout everyone else here," Donna said, looking rather annoyed, "But I want someone to explain what's goin' on."

Amy stepped forward to lean on one of the rails by the console. "I wouldn't mind hearing an explanation as well," she said, tossing the Doctor's toque at him. "Doctor?" she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

The Doctor looked over to, well, the Doctor, and either version shrugged at his past and future self, respectively. Eventually, the one with the spiky hair nodded in the direction of the one in the tweed jacket.

"You seem to know more about this situation than I do," He said.

The bow-tied Doctor shrugged. "Right then." He clapped his hands together. "Well, first, introductions. Doctor, I'd like you to meet Amelia Pond. Pond, this is the Doctor." Amy was about to ask the obvious question, but he shushed her by placing his hand over her mouth. "And this," He gestured to the redhead standing by his past self, "is Donna Noble. Donna, this is Amelia Pond."

Amy smacked the Doctor's hand away. "Call me Amy." She said, glaring at the Doctor. "And how can he be the Doctor? _You're _the Doctor!" She turned to him with her arms crossed.

Bowtie smiled at her. "I _am_ the Doctor. So is he. Think of him as… The Tenth Doctor."

"But… You, the Doctor, are the only time lord. You said so yourself."

Bowtie winced at that. "Yes, I did. And I am. So is he." He pointed again to the Tenth Doctor.

Amy shook her head rapidly with her eyes closed, trying to wrap her head around his insane logic. Donna seemed to be having similar trouble.

Ten eventually came to the rescue. "We're the same person," he told the two redheads, "but at different times in our timestream." He turned to Donna. "He is a future version of me. Alternatively, I,"

"Am a past version of me," the Bowtie Doctor finished. Ten looked over at him and nodded. "Which one are you, by the way?"

Bowtie squinted at him. "Doesn't that ruin the surprise?"

"Not really. I knew this one was coming all the way back at five."

Bowtie tilted his head. "Hmm. So you did. Touché. Very well, then." He made a vague circling motion around his face. "Eleventh."

Ten seemed just the tiniest bit disappointed. "Aw, I was hoping for something ginger next time around." He paused, then added, "No offense."

"None taken." Eleven reassured him. He touched his hair sadly. "I was rather hoping for ginger, too." He glanced up at Ten. "Ah well. Sooner or later, I swear I'll be ginger." He paused for a moment, then amended, "but not too soon, I hope."

Ten glanced at Donna and Amy in turn, taking in the fact that both of them had bright red hair. "It's just not fair." He lamented. Eleven glanced over at him in sympathy.

"I know." He looked over at his two traveling companions. "Torture, really. Everyone's ginger but me," he sighed.

Amy and Donna shared a look of confusion. Then, "Doctor!" Amy broke into their conversation. Ten and Eleven both turned at the question.

"What?" They said in unison.

Amy's mouth twitched in annoyance. She marched down from the console and jabbed her index finger at Eleven's bowtie. "Explain to me, in simpler terms, how he can be you, and you can be him, and yet you look nothing alike."

"Well," Eleven started, carefully removing Amy's hand from the vicinity of his throat, "You see, time lords have this way of cheating death. A sort of… trick. Whenever we, er, _I _get right to the brink of death, I can do this thing - it's called regeneration - where I completely change every last cell in my body. It keeps me alive, but I end up looking completely different. New face, new body, new personality… But all the same memories." He paused to make sure she was following his train of thought. "As _you _know me, I've regenerated ten times – so this," he gestured to himself, "is my eleventh incarnation. He," he gestured to Ten, "is my tenth incarnation."

"Wait," Donna broke in, coming closer to get a better look at Eleven. "You're saying that _you're _Alien Boy?" She absently poked Ten's shoulder.

Eleven nodded his head. "Yes. In a manner of speaking. You know, I was never really sure about that nickname. Kind of demeaning, really." He looked at his past self and they shared a look.

Donna was laughing. "You are, though!" She looked over at the Tenth Doctor. "Oh, this is rich. Doctor, I never knew you fancied tweed!"

Ten cleared his throat. "I don't." He said with mustered dignity. "He does." He jerked his head at Eleven. "If you couldn't tell, fashion sense changes with each regeneration."

"What, from weird to weirder?" Donna unsuccessfully hid a snort. Amy laughed with her.

"You should have seen the fez." She said.

Ten looked alarmed. "A fez? I haven't had a fez since that football game back during Eight. Please tell me you're joking."

Amy smiled at him. "Sorry. Can't promise you that."

Eleven looked miffed. "Fezzes _are _cool." He insisted. "Besides, you think _this_ is bad," Eleven looked at Donna, "You should have seen my _sixth _incarnation. That jacket…" Both Ten and Eleven shivered.

"Oh really? I'd love to see it." Amy said deviously.

Eleven cleared his through and ignored her. His voice grew more serious. "You know, I do love a good long chat, but there is something here that we should all be concerned about but no one has mentioned." He said.

Ten frowned, catching on immediately. "Too true. What was it again? 'Bout the size of Belgium."

Eleven nodded. "Precisely. Come give me a hand, will you?"

Ten shrugged. "Lucky I grew it back, eh?" He smiled at his own joke and jogged up to the console. He frowned as he surveyed the new controls. "Oh, my poor TARDIS! What have you done to her? The controls… They're all so… Shiny. And… new. And… Colorful." He seemed put out.

Eleven flipped a few switches and swung the monitor around. "Poor girl went through a bit of trouble a while back… A bit of down time for regeneration."

Ten pouted. "But I like the coral theme." He protested.

Eleven smiled at him encouragingly. "Oh, don't worry. She has a good long run, that one. I miss her, a bit. But all things have to change from time to time." He looked around his ship. "Besides, for however _colorful_ she is now, she'll always have the same heart."

Ten nodded, somewhat consoled, and petted the new levers and controls experimentally. A sudden jerk of the TARDIS threw everyone off balance and broke the Doctor out of his reverie.

"Doctor!" Donna yelled in alarm.

"Right," Ten said, "That'll be Belgium. Same thing as last time?"

"Continuous internal explosion cancellation, yes. Then you and Donna will have to be off, I'm afraid."

Ten nodded. "That's alright. Ready?" He looked up at his future self. The TARDIS shook.

Eleven smiled and darted around to the other side of the console and started pressing buttons. "Geronimo!"

Amy and Donna glanced at each other as they held on to the railing to keep their balance.

"Geronimo?" Donna asked.

Amy just shook her head with a smile.

After a moment or two, the TARDIS seemed to be stabilized, and Eleven lunged over to flip up a lever.

"No Titanic repeats!" He cried, sending up the shields. "That was a right nightmare."

"You're telling me." Ten said, running a hand through his wild hair. He then paused as he realized that he was flickering. "Well that was quick." He glanced over at Donna and saw that she was flickering slightly as well. He darted to her and took her hand. "Allons-y, Donna! Back to the TARDIS. Well, _my _TARDIS, that is. Lovely meeting you, Doctor! And you, Amelia."

"It's Amy." Amy insisted with a smile.

Ten frowned. "Oh, but Amelia's a brilliant name."

Eleven gave his companion a meaningful nudge. "That's what I said."

"Well, he's you too, so it doesn't count." Amy insisted. She turned and waved at Ten, who was fading from sight. "Nice meeting you too, er, Doctor." She said.

Donna waved. "Like the bowtie, Alien Boy."

Eleven smiled, just a twinge of sadness in his eyes. "Take care of yourself, Donna Noble. It's been good to see you again."

There was a silent pause as the pair flickered away, but just before they were gone, Eleven's eyes shot wide open. "Wait!" He said, and flashed over to the console. He flicked a switch, and Ten faded back into view with Donna.

Eleven rushed over and pulled Ten aside. "One more thing," he said, his eyes growing suddenly serious, "When you meet Amelia Pond," He whispered so that only his past self would hear, "Make sure you…" He paused. In that moment, he was incredibly tempted to instruct his past self to make _sure _that it was _five minutes_. Not six months, not twelve and two years. But for however much he wanted to, he found himself unable to say it. He'd been through this whole thing already, and he knew that that wasn't how things worked out. How different Amelia's childhood would have been, he would never know. He couldn't know, because he never told his past self differently. He made a small choking noise in his throat before saying, "Make sure you're wearing that one tie," he finished lamely, "The one with the blue swirls on it."

Ten blinked, his eyebrows contorting in a confused fashion. It was an expression that Eleven remembered well. Obviously, Ten was confused that his future self would make such an odd request with such a gravely serious countenance. "Right." Ten said, nodding. "I'll make sure I am." But Eleven knew that he wasn't completely convinced.

Smiling, Eleven backed away. "Right. Well. You'd best be off, Doctor."

"Of course, Doctor. Nice to meet you, by the way – I suppose I'll see you later."

"Oh, you will – in the mirror." Eleven smiled. "Until then." He flipped a switch, and the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble begun fading once again. Amy stood by the Doctor and watched the Doctor – the Tenth Doctor – and his companion fade away until they were completely gone. The TARDIS lurched one last time, and then everything returned to normal.

The Doctor turned to Amy. "My omelet will be freezing by now." He pouted and started off towards the kitchen.

Amy turned to follow him. "What did you tell him, your past self?" She asked.

The Doctor pivoted on his heel to look at her, slightly surprised. After a moment of hesitation, he shrugged. "Just what he told me the first time around." Supposing this was a sufficient answer, he turned back around and started walking.

"And what, exactly, did he tell you?" Amy crossed her arms.

The Doctor halted. He thought for a moment. He couldn't tell her. He hadn't been through _this_ before, but he knew he couldn't tell her what he'd said – or rather what he _hadn't _said. There was a silence, before he finally said, "Come along, Pond. Omelets may freeze, but there are still jammy dodgers to be had." He continued walking towards the kitchen.

Amy squinted, regarding him. She knew he wasn't telling her the whole truth. _"But then I wouldn't need you to trust me," _she remembered him telling her once. She sighed. She didn't like him keeping secrets, but then again, everyone had their own personal secrets. The Doctor was no different, it seemed.

Well, the _Eleventh _Doctor, at any rate.

With the vast amount of information she'd learned that morning, Amy decided that there were better things to interrogate her Doctor on than what he'd told a past self.

"You know, I'd still like to see that jacket you were talking about…" She said, running to catch up with him. He groaned.

"No, no, and no. Not happening."

"Oh, come on, _Eleven._" Amy grabbed his arm charmingly in an attempt to persuade him. "I'll let that comment about my cooking slide if you show me that jacket," she smiled. He glared down at her.

"I never even made a comment about your cooking to begin with. You did"

She sighed. "Okay… I'll let you buy a fez," she tried hopefully.

He scoffed. "No you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would, if you let me see the jacket."

"Wouldn't."

"Would."

"Wouldn't."

"Would – with a great gold tassel on the top."

He sighed and looked away. After a moment, he said, "Jammy dogers first. Jacket later."

"Yes!" Amy gave a small celebratory dance and followed him into the kitchen.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, muttering, "Next she'll be asking about that ridiculous scarf…"

"Oh, a scarf as well? Make it two fezzes, then."

The Doctor sighed and shook his head as he turned away to make tea.

"Heaven help us if you ever meet any of my other selves."

Just then, a gigantic bang sounded from the console room.

"_Oh, well that's just fantastic!" _A distant, Northern-sounding voice exclaimed.

Amy's eyes darted over to the Doctor. "What – _who_ – is that?" She asked.

He swallowed hard and wondered how long it would take Amy to get over his leather jacket.

"Heaven help us."


	2. Wardrobes & Paradoxes at a Parisian Cafe

Wardrobes and Paradoxes at a Parisian Cafe

A/N: Wow. I was not expecting (at all) the warm welcome of 'Omelets, Gingers, and Doctors, Oh My!' when I posted it. However, after several requests, I've decided that it would be worth a try to write a sequel. You don't have to read the previous story to understand this one, but the prequel does give a bit of a lead-up to this one, and a few minor plot devices. I was avoiding Rose in the last one because this is a lighthearted fic and I didn't want the drama that Rose inevitably causes with post-Rose Doctor, but I thought I'd try it anyway. I won't be emphasizing the angst that 11 still feels over Rose, but it'll have its place. This is mostly humor.

Anyway. I'm rambling. Sorry about that – on with the show!

**EDIT: Well, I originally posted this as a separate story. However, after hardly any response (I'm thinking that no one is looking at an independently-posted sequel - LAZY browsers!) I have decided to re-post it under the prequel's title. Enjoy! And PLEASE review! I love reviews just as much as the Doctor loves bowties.**

* * *

"So let me get this straight," the blonde leaned across the wrought-iron table, "You're saying that the two of you are the same person?"

"Yes."

"But he's from the future?"

"Yes!"

"But the two of you are actually _both_ the Doctor."

"Yes. Well, minus the bowtie."

"Bowties _are _cool." The Doctor adjusted his 'cool' neckwear with pronounced dignity.

Amy finished sipping her lemon water and looked up at the Doctor with a familiar look of annoyance.

"Not in this universe," she said.

He didn't hesitate. "Of course in this universe! They used to be all the rage in the nineteenth century. Just because you weren't around to sport that accent of yours when bowties were invented doesn't mean they're not cool."

There was a tense silence. Amy narrowed her eyes at him. He raised his brow high in a silent challenge. Rose looked from one to the other in confusion. Finally, the man in the leather jacket thought to break the silence.

"Anyway, other than that, yes, we are the same person," he smiled widely at Rose. "Quite fantastic, don't you think?"

Rose attempted to smile at him, but she was distracted once again by the glaring contest that was taking place across the café table. "I'm sorry," she broke in, "are you two always like this?"

Simultaneously, Amy answered 'yes' and the Doctor answered 'no'. They shared one final look before the bow-tied one adjusted his chair so that he was facing Rose. A waitress came by and deposited a tray of tea on their table. The Doctor thanked her, asked her for a full tin of jammy dodgers, (judging by the confused look on her face, she hadn't the slightest idea what a jammy dodger was) and thanked her again as she walked off.

"Now," he said, looking to Rose and his past self in turn, "perhaps this needs a bit more explaining."

"Well that depends on what 'this' means," The Ninth Doctor replied, "are you referring to the jacket, Amy's nighty, or the fact that you've been wearing a pink tartan fedora this whole time?"

"Fedoras are cool."

Amy rolled her eyes. "But tartan? Really?"

"You're Scottish; I thought you'd like it," Eleven looked at her in mock disbelief.

Amy rolled her eyes and restrained herself from kicking him under the table.

The Doctor was nonplussed. "But yes. Tartan is cool, too."

"Is _everything _cool with you?"

"No, of course not. Polka-dots aren't cool. Rice hats aren't cool. Zoot suits definitely aren't cool. But fedoras and tartan are completely and undoubtedly cool." He adjusted the bright pink hat carefully and looked down his nose at Amy. She looked right back. There was another awkward silence.

"Good lord, how do you put up with this all the time? It's worse than my mum-"

"_Anyway,_" Nine quieted Rose with a hand on her arm. He looked over his brow meaningfully at his future self. Eleven shook his head suddenly, as if just remembering something, and slammed his hands palms-down on the table, shaking the teapot.

"Right! Explanation of the big thing. And actually, I wasn't referring to anyone's wardrobe; I was talking about the whole time-parardox, two Doctors together in the same place at the same time –again- and a compromised TARDIS with twenty-minutes until a Belgian Armageddon." He paused briefly to look his dining companions in the eye. "You know, that little sweetheart."

"Ah," Nine nodded thoughtfully, "There is that, of course."

"Of course." Eleven repeated. "Though I suppose I really should explain the wardrobe thing too, shouldn't I?"

Nine pursed his lips momentarily and then said, "Yeah, you really should."

"Hmm," Eleven flicked his wrist over to look at his watch, "still about twenty and two-thirds minutes to spare. Right then," he rubbed his hands together, "it might sound a bit crazy, but then again, you're me. We're all used to crazy here. It all started when I was trying to make a bacon omelet this morning…"

* * *

_**24 ⅓ minutes earlier…**_

* * *

"Heaven help us if you ever meet any of my other selves."

Just then, a gigantic bang sounded from the console room.

"_Oh, well that's just fantastic!" _A distant, Northern-sounding voice exclaimed.

Amy's eyes darted over to the Doctor. "What – _who_ – is that?" She asked.

He swallowed hard and wondered how long it would take Amy to get over his leather jacket.

"Heaven help us."

The Doctor gulped and craned his neck around, as if this helped in some way. Amy looked excited.

"Ooh, that sounds ominous. Is this another embarrassing secret just waiting to be uncovered?"

"What? No, I have no idea what you're talking about, Pond," The Doctor was suddenly casual. _Too _casual. Amy started to say something, but he continued, "Didn't I say something about a jacket? A jacket and a scarf? Perhaps a metal dog – no, scratch the metal dog. Jacket it is, then!" He started towards the door in an unnecessarily eager fashion.

Amy, suspicious, stayed where she was by the table. When he turned around with a questioning look, she crossed her arms. "Didn't you say jammy dodgers first?"

The Doctor blinked at her as if trying to remember. "Right," he darted towards the table, snatched one of the pastries, stuffed it in his mouth and horked it down. "Good! Love a jammy dodger!" He spat crumbs on Amy as he spoke around the decimated treat. He swallowed painfully, coughed, then grabbed Amy's hand firmly. "Jacket!"

Amy stumbled after him as he practically dragged her down the halls of the TARDIS.

"_My poor TARDIS! What's been done to you?" _Amy heard that same northern voice again. She yanked on the Doctor's hand to slow him down.

"Doctor, what is that voice, and why are we running away from it?"

The Doctor paused momentarily. "Running away? I'm not running away – why would I be running away?"

"From a voice."

"Oh, that's nothing it's a… Autopilot droid… Thing. Forgot to mention." He looked uncomfortable. "Just monitoring the TARDIS, is all."

Amy frowned suspiciously. "It sounds like it's a northerner. A male northerner."

"And what if it is?" Before Amy could reply, the Doctor spun around and yanked harder on her hand. "Come along, Pond!" Amy attempted to catch a glimpse of the control room as they flew by, but couldn't manage it.

"Welcome to the TARDIS wardrobe!" The Doctor thrust open the double doors with dramatic flair, and ushered his companion inside.

Amy momentarily forgot about the northern TARDIS control pilot and ogled at the vast room before her. It stretched in all directions, and just about every inch of it was full of clothes racks. Some clothes hung on nooks in the walls, some were on circular racks, and still others were on spiraling rods that ran from ceiling to floor. There was a eighteenth century French ballgown next to her (though why the Doctor would want such a thing, she didn't know – or want to know) and she also saw something that looked just a little bit _too _much like Michael Jackson's 'Thriller' costume. Her attention was drawn by a rumpus to her right, and she jumped as the Doctor tumbled out of a clothes rack, holding a very colorful jacket and having trouble not tripping over a scarf. He seemed a bit distracted even as he showed the two articles to her in turn.

"Jacket, Scarf." He held them up.

Amy blinked at them, looked at his face, and then promptly burst out laughing. Eventually, she staggered over and took them from him, saying something through laughter that he couldn't really understand. He took a moment to look miffed, then went back to his nervous glancing at the doors of the wardrobe room. When he turned back towards Amy, she had put on the jacket (which was much too large for her) and wrapped the long scarf about her like it was a shawl.

"Oh, look at me! I'm the Doctor – the universal fashion disaster!" She danced around in a mocking fashion, miming a deep voice. She snorted and struggled to keep the huge scarf under control as it tried to fall to the ground. "Now I see where the bowtie came from." She giggled some more before looking up at the Doctor. "Did you really wear this? I can't imagine how you must've…" She trailed off as she realized the Doctor was nowhere to be seen. She frowned. "Doctor?" Her voice reverberated back to her. She cast around for any sign of him, and noticed that the previously closed door was now hanging ajar. He must have gone out. Not bothering to take of the jacket or the scarf, she shuffled towards the doors and peeked her head out, looking down the hallway. She saw the edge of his tweed jacket disappear into the control room just as she looked. Still not removing his old, colorful clothes, Amy jogged towards the room in confusion. "Doctor?" She called.

"What is going on?" the northern autopilot called from inside the room, "And who are you?"

"Why are you _here?_" She could here the Doctor. "Why? Two in one day? This is mad!"

Intrigued, Amy inched closer, hugging the Doctor's scarf around her in an attempt to cover herself. She poked the door open and peeked out. There, standing in the TARDIS control room, was the Doctor, a tough-looking man in a leather jacket, and a young blonde. She heard the one in the leather jacket speak, and recognized the voice.

"So _this_ is your autopilot?" Amy walked in, a bit awkward with the big jacket and scarf. The Doctor seemed a bit alarmed, but Amy walked right past him to the leather-clad one. "Looks awfully real. Is he a hologram of some sort?" She smiled.

Meanwhile, the autopilot was looking at her attire in horror. "My jacket! That's my jacket – and my scarf!"

"No no no!" The Doctor darted down and interposed himself between his companion and his 'autopilot'. "It's, erm, a long story." He looked at both of them. Amy noticed that he was trying not to make eye contact with the blonde standing to one side. "I'll explain everything in time, but I think first we should all calm down and-" He wheeled around to Amy. "For goodness' sake, Amy, take of that ridiculous outfit." The Doctor plucked the scarf away from her. She took off the jacket begrudgingly and handed it to him. She couldn't help but notice that he handled them carefully as he took them away – almost like one might handle a beloved pet.

"Now!" He went back up to the autopilot and Amy. "Well. This is… Bad."

"Doctor," the blonde spoke up, "what is goin' on?" She looked between the autopilot and the Doctor.

The Doctor rubbed a hand over his face. If he were to look, he could've seen the gears turn in Amy's head. She was no super genius, but she was far from daft.

"Wait a minute," Amy said, pointing a finger at the leather-clad 'autopilot'. "Autopilot? Autopilot my foot!" She turned to the Doctor – or more specifically, the _Eleventh_ Doctor. "This is another one of you, isn't it? Like earlier!" She turned back to scan the new – or old – Doctor. "Do you really love yourself this much, that you just pop by to visit twice in one day?"

"No," Eleven moaned, "I don't know what's going on. This shouldn't have happened _once, _let alone _twice_!" He fiddled with his sonic and started pacing. As was his habit, he started rambling out of stress. Amy wasn't exactly sure what he was saying – something about probability factors, memories, and somehow something about waffles. Amy, relatively used to this ritual of incessant talking, turned to the Autopilot Doctor.

"This is still pretty weird, but, hello," she reached out her hand, "I'm Amy. You must be the, eh… Which Doctor is it?"

He seemed to be confused. "Which? I am _the _Doctor, not _a _Doctor!"

Amy shook her head. "No, sorry, bad phrasing. I meant which _incarnation. _Like, second, fifth, eighteenth?" She rolled her eyes. "Well, I am assuming that it's not eighteen, because you obviously don't know who he is," she gestured to the bow-tied Doctor behind her, who was presently whacking himself on the forehead with a sonic screwdriver, "so which is it, then?"

He stared at her for a moment. He knew what she was talking about, but was taken aback just the same. After a few moments of wondering what in the _universe_ had possessed him to don a bow tie in the future, he said, "I'm the Ninth."

Meanwhile, the blonde was growing more frustrated. "Oh, so now _I'm _the only one in the dark? Please, someone explain what is going on!" She stepped towards her Doctor and crossed her arms. Nine turned to her.

"Well, first of all, Rose, this is Amy. Amy, Rose. And that fellow over there-"

The 'fellow' interrupted their introductions with a shout. "Not good, very very not good!" Smoke emitted from the console where he stood, and after several sirens went off, the cloister bell started tolling loudly. Nine reacted poorly.

"What have you _done_?"

Eleven was fiddling with all sorts of things. As he viciously attacked the zig-zag plotter, he yelled, "No, what have _you_ done? You're the one who rammed my TARDIS."

Nine crossed his arms. "You could have rammed _mine,_ you know."

Eleven seemed chastened. "Good point. Regardless, we're in trouble." He swung the monitor around so that he could look at it while he worked, "The engines are still recovering from separating the two TARDISes this morning. We don't have enough power to fully disengage _your _TARDIS."

Nine didn't know the full story of 'this morning', but he grasped that they were in a sticky situation. "How long will it need to recharge?"

"Thirty minutes," Eleven told him.

"And how long until the whole thing explodes?" He asked apprehensively. Behind him, Rose let out a shocked 'What?' and Amy attempted to explain somewhat.

Eleven looked at his past self balefully. "Eight minutes."

The two just looked at each other for a moment. Then, Nine squared his shoulders and turned away. "Right. What do we do, then?"

Eleven paced for a moment, mumbling and fiddling with things on the console, trying to zone out the cloister bell. "We need to shut the TARDIS down to let it recharge," He told them, "and the only way to do that now is to-"

"Leave the TARDIS." Nine finished for him.

"Exactly, but with two TARDISes in one spot, that could be complicated." Without explaining further, he ran over to the front door and opened it wide. The huge blackness of open space greeted him, and he shut the door quickly. "Definitely complicated." He zoomed over to Nine.

"You, where were you headed?"

"Earth."

"Earth? Good. Did you land – I mean, did you physically _land_ before you crashed into me?"

Nine thought about it. "Yes."

Eleven gave a whoop of joy. "Brilliant! We might just live through this." He went back over to the console and searched for the controls that he was looking for. "Because we're in two TARDISes at the moment, there is a chance that if I change the desktop theme back to what it was during _your _time," he pointed a finger at Nine, "it will switch completely over to your TARDIS, which is landed on Earth. We can leave using _that_ TARDIS interface, which will shut the engines down and stop the time-space paradox in the heart and let the engines recharge so that _we _have a chance to survive the Belgian explosion!" He was smiling brightly.

"You really think that will work?" Nine asked.

Eleven shrugged. "Haven't the foggiest. Let's find out." He finished entering a code into a keypad and pulled a lever. The TARDIS interior started flickering, until it had switched completely over to Nine's TARDIS. It was more industrial looking, older, and somehow, it looked like-

"Coral. Why coral?" Amy looked around her.

"No time to explain!" Eleven rushed down from the console, looking at his gold wristwatch. "Five minutes! Everybody out!" He swung the doors open and rushed blindly out into wherever and whenever Nine had parked.

As the four of them tumbled out of the TARDIS, they nearly ran into a horse and buggy. An angry passenger leaned out and yelled at them in a French accent.

"Well," Eleven looked around at Paris, "Wasn't really expecting that."

Nine looked put out. "But I was going to the _eighteenth_ century, not the _nineteenth!_"

Eleven turned with a smile and patted his past self on the shoulder. "Just be happy we're here at all – it saved your life. Two of your lives, in fact." He turned to Amy and Rose. "Now," He was still smiling, "Half and hour in nineteenth century Paris. What would you like to do?"

Within a few minutes, they had located a small café that had plenty of coffee and sweatbreads to satisfy the four companions' appetites. After they were seated, Eleven left to fetch a local newspaper. When he returned, he was wearing a pink tartan fedora, much to the surprise of everyone else. When Amy asked him about it, all he'd said was "I was looking for a French beret. Found this instead. I really need to clean out my pockets one of these days." Though thoroughly confused, Amy had left the subject alone.

After they'd settled down in their seats, Rose, who had been frowning since they'd left the TARDIS, finally spoke up.

"Alright. You," she looked at Nine, "Explain. Now."

Nine looked to Eleven, but the other Doctor just looked down at his lap, obviously uncomfortable with the impending explanation.

As Nine started to explain, Eleven watched Rose's face carefully. He remembered her well, and even now in a different life, he missed her just as much as he'd missed her ever since they'd been separated. She'd been through so much with him, and helped him in ways she didn't even know. He'd known her through two lifetimes, and for however different those two lives were, she was still there, still Rose. Dependable, smiling, lovely Rose. And here she was again, right in front of him but so far away. It was agonizing. He shook himself and looked away, picking up the newspaper he'd fetched earlier.

Eventually, Nine seemed to be done explaining.

"So let me get this straight," the blonde leaned across the wrought-iron table, "You're saying that the two of you are the same person?"

* * *

"And here we are." Eleven concluded, sipping at his tea.

The three others nodded, and eventually Rose spoke up.

"And, how much longer do we have to wait?"

Eleven looked at his watch. "Twelve minutes," he said. He was about to suggest that they order some meals, but the waitress walked up just as he did.

"Um, Monsieur," she said uncertainly, leaning over to speak with Eleven, "the chef says that he does not have any of what you call 'Jammy Dodgers'."

Eleven scoffed. "Oh, stupid me… Paris, of course not. Oh, what the heck, this is France – an order of almond croissants, then," he told her. She smiled and walked away. "Now, where were we? Oh, right – twelve minutes." He looked again at his watch. "Well, eleven and a half minutes. So," he looked up at his companions, specifically Nine and Rose, "Any questions?"

Nine was the first. "Why do you think that you've… Well, met yourself – past self, that is, twice in one day?"

Eleven shrugged. "Could be where we are. Could be a coincidence. Could be an anomaly of my own brain. Once my TADIS is working properly again, I plan to land somewhere safe and take a good look at the dematerialization circuit and make sure it's running properly. I don't want to be zipping around until I know nothing's wonky about it."

"Could it be the shields?" Nine asked, "The defense monitor tends to gunk up easily, so it might have caused a breakdown of the automatic shield trigger, which might make it easier to crash."

Amy and Rose looked at each other with the same level of incomprehension. Silently, they decided to intervene.

"Not a bad idea," Eleven said, "I'll look into that too. Though it might even be that I've simply forgotten to clean out the-"

"Anyway," Amy and Rose said simultaneously.

"You boys can talk cars later." Amy said, ignoring Eleven's insistence that the TARDIS 'is not one of your silly automobiles'. Rose took up where Amy left off.

"Now, what _I _want to know," she said, turning towards Eleven, "Is _why_ you are wearing that idiotic fedora."

Eleven straightened the hat. "Well, as I told Amy, I was actually looking for a beret. But why I'm _really _wearing it is because I don't have a…" He trailed off, and his gaze followed something behind Rose's head. "Be right back." He said, before darting up so quickly that he nearly knocked over his chair.

When he returned, the fedora was gone. In its place was a bright red fez.

Amy was gobsmacked. "_What?_ Where did you get _that?_" she dismayed.

Eleven was all smiles. "I just bought it from his Excellency the Sultan of Turkey!" He grinned. He didn't bother to explain _why _the Sultan of Turkey was in Paris, but Amy didn't really care – she was already conjuring up ways to destroy his latest headwear. As if sensing this, Eleven told her, "Remember, you promised. I showed you that stupid jacket – now I can get a fez." He adjusted it on his hair. "It's a very nice fez, too."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Well I'm glad you're happy. If only you knew how ridiculous you looked."

Eleven frowned as he sat back down. "Fezzes are cool."

Amy didn't comment, but she sent Rose a meaningful look and the blonde let out a snort.

They proceeded to enjoy their tea and croissants in relative peace – much of their time consisted of Eleven defending his wardrobe choices against two rather critical companions. Eventually, the tea was gone and the croissants had been eaten. Eleven spent some time reflecting on his time as Nine, much of which was lost completely on their two companions, especially Amy. Eventually, Eleven looked at his watch once more.

"Only five more minutes. I suppose we should be heading back to the TARDIS," he said.

"Well in that case, I'll be right back." Amy said. While she went off to find the ladies room, the two doctors and Rose hung by the front counter. While Nine spoke with the head waiter, trying to negotiate their bill, (the Doctor had always been horrible with money) Eleven stood a few metres away by a mirror that hung on the wall, surveying his new hat happily. Unexpectedly, Rose approached him from behind.

"Doctor?" She asked, obviously apprehensive about this new Doctor. He turned on his heel and forced a smile. "Rose." He said, trying to hide the pain that it caused him to see her again.

"Erm, I know that you can't really tell me anything – about the future, that is," she tucked her hair behind her ear, "but I was wondering…" She glanced over at Nine to make sure he wasn't listening, "what happened? To me, I mean, to _us_?" She didn't sound mad – more confused than anything. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Eleven told her quickly. "No, you couldn't do anything wrong." He paused for a moment, wondering what he should say. "It's nothing you did, Rose," He said.

Rose frowned again. "Then what is it? Why do you end up abandoning me?"

His look softened. "I would never abandon you, Rose. I didn't. I promise you, it'll all work out right. In the end, you'll be happy. I promise."

She seemed to accept the answer, but tilted her head at him. "And what about you?" She asked him.

He froze on the spot, unable to answer. Luckily, Amy and Nine returned and rescued him. "Right," he said, clearing his throat. "Off we go."

As they walked, Eleven turned to the others. "When we get inside, we'll only have a few minutes to get you two and your TARDIS back to where you're supposed to be, so it's best if we say our goodbyes now." He stopped outside the TARDIS and turned towards Nine and Rose.

The four said their goodbyes easily. Amy and Rose had found some common ground over tea and croissants, so they smiled and hugged each other in a friendly way. Nine and Eleven said goodbye in fond tones, but when it came time for Rose to give her farewells to the Eleventh Doctor, things grew somber. Rose seemed alright, but Eleven's smile was forced as he hugged her, trying to fight off painful memories.

"It's been good to see you, Rose Tyler." He said softly. "Treat me well, okay?"

She chuckled. "I will."

An awkward silence ensued after they parted, and although everyone noticed the tension in the air, no one mentioned it.

"Alright, then." Eleven said, avoiding eye contact with Rose, "Been nice seeing you two. Ready?"

Nine smiled. "Whenever you are."

They rushed into the TARDIS and the Doctors set off to work. The alarms were trilling once more as the engines heated up, and the cloister bell obliged everyone to speak louder than normal.

"If I never have to do this again, it'll be too soon!" Eleven said, rushing around the console.

Nine flicked a switch, and the TARDIS flickered back to Eleven's desktop theme. "Alright, it should be all set."

"Rose! Get by the door with the Doctor!" Eleven shouted. Rose complied, and Nine jogged over to grasp her hand.

"This might give us a bit of a jolt," Eleven said. "Amy, hold on to something.

"I suppose I'll see you later," Nine smiled at his future self. Eleven nodded.

"I haven't heard _that _before. Until then!" He raised a hand in farewell. The two parting companions mimicked the gesture, and Eleven pulled the switch.

"Geronimo!"

The TARDIS rocked violently as the other TARDIS separated, knocking the Doctor to the ground. Nine and Rose began to fade, and Eleven wheeled his head around to get one last glimpse of Rose before she was gone. After the two had gone and the TARDIS stopped shaking, he pulled himself back up on his feet and straightened his fez.

"Well. That was fun. Seeing them again." He sniffed and fiddled absently with some controls.

Amy, who had noticed that something was off with the Doctor, went to go stand by him. She watched him carefully, taking note of his sad expression and the preoccupied way with which he flipped the switches and levers of the TARDIS.

"Who was she?" Amy asked eventually. She caught the Doctor of guard.

"Who?" He feigned ignorance.

"Rose," Amy replied, "She was obviously a companion of yours. You two were close, weren't you?"

The Doctor avoided her eyes. "Yes, you could say that."

"What happened to her?"

He sniffed. "She's… Gone."

Amy frowned. "She died?"

"No," He replied, "She's _gone._ In another world – alternate reality, actually. It's a long story."

"But how did she get there?"

"I told you, it's a long story," the Doctor repeated in a hurt tone. It was obvious that he didn't like thinking about it. "The fact is that we were very close and then something happened, and we were separated. And I'll never ever see her again."

Amy didn't say anything for a long while. He finished what he was doing and got the TARDIS to fly to a safe location where he could look over her engine. As he fiddled below the console with the inner workings of the TARDIS, Amy waited patiently. He was talking to the TARDIS again – she could hear him. Somehow, his precious ship always seemed to put him in a better mood, so she took her chances and went down to where he was hunched over the engine. She stood beside him silently for a moment, listening to him talk to his 'old girl', the TARDIS.

"What's the big bad crash done to you? Oh, look at all this gunk. No wonder you're crashing into yourself." He reached out a hand behind him, blindly searching his work tray. "I need my sonic," he said to no one. Amy reached over and placed the device in his open palm.

"Oh, thank you, Amy," he said absently. Then he stopped and sat up straight to look at her as he realized something. "Amy," he looked at her. "What are you doing down here?"

She smiled at him. "You know, several months ago I lost someone very dear to me. I was positive that we would never see each other again." His face was somewhere between hurt and appreciation as she spoke. "But then a wise old man me that nothing is truly lost – things that are remembered can be brought back." She let the words sink in. "You know, I don't know much about what happened, but I'm sure that she'll never _really_ be gone – you obviously remember her, don't you?" Amy smiled. "And I'm sure she remembers you, too.

The Doctor simply looked at her for a moment, then gave her the tiniest of smiles. "Thank you, Amelia Pond." He said. He was obviously still upset, but not quite so despondent as before.

Amy stepped forward and leaned over to give him a quick hug. "Gotcha."

He smiled. "Gotcha."

They separated and the Doctor went back to work. Amy stayed nearby to hand him different tools and parts when he needed them. "You know," The Doctor said after a while, "I think you and Rose would have liked each other."

"We do – got on quite well. We exchanged some stories, you know. You _never _change, do you?"

The Doctor briefly wondered what kind of stories they would exchange with each other, particularly about him, but he eventually decided that it was better if he didn't know. "The two of you are actually quite different – but I think you would get along quite well; you'd balance each other out. Although," he peeked his head out to look at Amy, "for the record, I'm glad you're not both here at the same time. I don't think the universe is ready for that."

Amy frowned. "Oi! What is that supposed to mean, bowtie boy?"

"Well, I don't know. It's a statement, is all."

"And what does this 'statement' mean, exactly?"

The Doctor pushed himself up from his work and promptly changed the subject. "Look at that! What a beauty; all fixed now. Where to next?" He quickly rushed out of arm's length of Amy. "Time to take my repairs for a test run!"

"The wardrobe." Amy replied. He turned to look at her as if she'd gone mad, but she just shrugged at him.

"You never did put away that ridiculous jacket and scarf," She told him, "Besides, I might just find that old leather jacket your other self was wearing. How _did _you get Rose to come with you when you were dressed like that?"

"Perhaps she thinks leather makes me look dashing," he said, neglecting to tell her that they were running for their lives when they met.

Amy snorted anyway. "She told me she would prefer you in a suit," she confessed.

The Doctor seemed interested by this revelation as he considered his tenth incarnation's attire. "Well, good for her, then." He pursed his lips. "Though I suppose you're going to tell me that she doesn't like bowties, aren't you?"

"Actually, she said that it made you look rather… Cute."

The Doctor blinked at her, then, "I _told _you it was cool."

Amy rolled her eyes.

The Doctor smiled.

_finis_

* * *

Okay, so I focused more on Rose than I thought I would. So sue me. She's the best companion ever.

Oh, and Rory… Well, he's the gaping hole in this story. Strictly speaking, considering the references I made, he _should _be in there. But he's not. Don't ask me why. This whole this is just AU fluff anyway.

Read and Review, please!


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